


Titheniell

by Elwen_of_the_hidden_valley



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Elves, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Parting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:21:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6582868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwen_of_the_hidden_valley/pseuds/Elwen_of_the_hidden_valley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“None saw her last meeting with Elrond her father, for they went up into the hills and there spoke long together, and bitter was their parting that should endure beyond the ends of the world.”</p><p>The Return of the King.  Chapter 6 - Many Partings</p>
            </blockquote>





	Titheniell

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own them. They belong to JRR Tolkien. I’m borrowing them and will try to put them back as I found them.

With a step, light and quick as it had been six thousand years ago, Elrond Peredhil alighted from his horse, pausing to pat his mount’s neck before helping his daughter. Arwen was quite capable of dismounting alone, but waited for his strong hands upon her waist. Her slender fingers came to rest upon his shoulders and he set her feet down amongst the wild flowers of the upland meadow they had discovered together in the hills above the plains of Rohan.

In the valley, below them they could see the queen’s bodyguard, for even the king had been unable to dissuade them from following. Arwen had been safe in her father’s keeping for three thousand years, but now she was in the keeping of her people . . . the people of Gondor. The two turned away and Elrond lead her to an outcrop of sun warmed boulders. He stood for a moment, looking into her upturned face, and then settled at her side.

For some time they sat, staring straight ahead, each unwilling to meet the other’s gaze. Above them a skylark twittered upward, then her song melted away as she realised that the two invaders of her territory were no threat to her young. Elrond watched her circle downward and blend into the grass a few yards away. The air was warm, laden with the perfume of a hundred different meadow flowers and dressed with the hum of bees. This would be a good country for gathering medicinal herbs.

A delicate, long fingered hand slid beneath his, where it lay upon his knee. His eyes fell from the blue sky to this offering of love and his fingers wrapped themselves of their own volition about his daughter’s. How many times, throughout the ages of her life, had Elrond felt that touch?

There was the moment he had pressed his finger into one tiny pink palm and the fist, still damp from her mother, had wrapped tightly about his. A bond had formed then that he had thought would never be broken. She was his, a daughter to cherish. Never would she want. Never would she feel hurt. There would be no battles or pain for her. Arwen would be loved and walled away from distress all her life . . . he would see to that. Never would she have to endure the isolation and fear of Elrond’s own childhood.

He remembered a time when he had strolled through woods with Celebrian at his side, Arwen’s small hand clasped tightly in his as she giggled and kicked up a shower of gold and copper leaves. His heart still soared when he heard that light bubble of laughter, for it meant that his daughter was happy. And if his child was happy all was right with his world.

Elrond closed his eyes against the sun as another memory assailed him. She had dropped her embroidery and run to him for comfort, her long fingers tangled in the hair at his nape as she buried her face in his shoulder. Celebrian had just told her that she would be taking the boat to the West. He had lost his wife, and his daughter was losing a mother. That was the day that he finally had to acknowledge that there were some hurts that he could not shield her from. He bore one of the rings of power but he was no Valar. He was simply Elrond Halfelven, a father.

As though she sensed his pain, Arwen laid her other hand upon his and he opened his eyes. He had seen her hands enfolded thus before, but not with his. Joy and grief were inextricably mingled as he laid the hand of his daughter by birth into the hand of his son by gifting, and even the sound of her laughter could not lift the pain that clutched at his heart.

“Ada?”

He looked up at the soft question, finding that a sparkling mist had covered the world. Arwen’s hand moved to brush aside his silent tears and he finally met her gaze. Her own eyes were yet dry, her visage filled with question.

“Do you weep for me, Ada? You must not, for I have made my decision and I rejoice in it.”

It was difficult to make his admission. “No. I do not weep for you. Aragorn is a good and noble king and a loving husband. I weep for myself, for I have lost that which I hold most dear in the world.”

Of a sudden, it seemed to Elrond that his daughter had aged a thousand years, for it was she who now comforted him. Her words would have been harsh, had they been pronounced with anything other than the deep love that she offered.

“No, Ada. You have not lost me. Rather you have lost your dream of my future.” She placed her hand over his heart. “I am always here. You cannot lose me. Just as when you leave these shores to join Naneth, I will not lose you. If you listen closely you will hear me, in here. I have changed your life forever and you have helped to shape me into the person you see before you. You have been my physician, tutor, knight, lord and friend. But most of all, you have been my Ada and I have been your Titheniell.”

Elrond’s eyes would no longer hold his grief and Arwen let her own tears fall, bringing her head to rest upon his chest, as she had done countless times since the moment of her birth. He brought his arms about her, feeling her conform to him as she had ever done.

“Titheniell . . . I have listened to your heartbeat since before you entered the world. I am not sure that I will be able to face a world where I will never hear it again. I survived my brother’s choice of mortality but I am not certain that I will be able to do so a second time.” 

Arwen’s arms slipped about his neck, entwining in the dark swathe of his hair and her sobs shook him. “How can you say that? You gave us your blessing. How much more do you think it will pain me if I leave Estel now? For if I forsake my love and travel with you to Valinor it is I who will be living without the beat of a heart in my fea. Would you subject me to that?”

Her words struck deep into his soul. Could he watch her go through such torment? It had nearly killed him when Elros died. The only way to assuage the agony of his twin’s death had been to care for his descendants. The result of that had been the arrival of Aragorn in his household. And that decision had brought about Aragorn’s meeting with Arwen. It seemed to Elrond that he had brought about his own doom. Or at the very least, that of his youngest child.

He had known of the love between Arwen and Estel from its first stirrings, had seen the warmth of their eyes when they met, listened to the quickening of her heartbeat when they were within sight of each other. For a long time he had simply observed, hoping that the difference in their races would eventually force them apart. But time had only strengthened their love. 

Galadriel had seen and even aided it for she was ever the rebel. It had been in Lothlorien that Arwen had pledged herself to Aragorn and for many years Elrond had refused to even speak to his mother by marriage. But she had simply out waited his silence. Beside Galadriel, Elrond was but a callow youth. He had always been vaguely surprised that she had allowed him to marry her daughter at all. But even she could not stand in the way of the love between Celebrian and Elrond.

Galadriel could no more stop the course of love than could Elrond. He bent to kiss his daughter’s head and at the feather touch of his lips Arwen’s sobs faded.

“I am sorry. I have been selfish and hard of heart. You love him.”

Arwen tilted her face upward, kissing away a tear that dampened his cheek. “You are not hard of heart. That is why you grieve and I love you all the more for it.” She drew back, taking his hands in hers once more. “I have loved you all of my life Ada, and will continue to do so, until the end of my days. I can offer no more love than that.”

Bringing her hands to his lips, Elrond kissed each before looking long at them. This memory would be his last. Never again would he touch these soft fingers. He released them tenderly.

“I could ask no more of you. And I will love you for all of my days. Be happy, my Titheniell.”

 

END

 

Titheniell = little daughter (sindarin)  
Naneth = Mum (sindarin)  
Ada = Dad (sindarin)


End file.
